


Lessons

by bigstupidjellyfish



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Fingerfucking, Light Bondage, M/M, Oral Sex, Polyamory, Teaching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-08
Updated: 2015-02-09
Packaged: 2018-03-11 05:01:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3315047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigstupidjellyfish/pseuds/bigstupidjellyfish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Skids and Getaway share their extensive knowledge with Riptide.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I had this thing in my head since forever, and on my tumblr for a little shorter time, but I thought I'd post it on AO3 only after finishing the second part. The second part, however, is ALMOST finished, but it's 1 a.m., my ability to make good judgement calls is compromised. Second part will be finished and posted tomorrow.
> 
> This is unbeta'd, so if you catch some bugs in the text, feel free to point them out.
> 
> Many thanks for Verit, copannan and Sonntam for enduring me.

Lately, Riptide’s life was really weird in his opinion. He wouldn’t say it was some “bad” kind of weird, quite the opposite in fact, but if he had to describe it simply and without unnecessary eloquence, he would roll with just weird. Besides, eloquence wasn’t one of his strongest traits.

 

And it was a bit hard to think of fancy metaphors for the strangeness of his life events when these events were working on making him incoherent. Riptide didn’t know what he did in his life that now he ended up between two spies that were touching his big and clunky body everywhere, eager for his awkward kisses and uncertain touches, but he wasn’t going to complain.

 

It baffled Riptide that Skids had the talent to find sweet spots on his body he had no idea about. Like, outriggers on his back - what could be sensitive about them? Skids’ tongue found that a lot could, and a little more.

 

To hide little, embarrassing noises he made, Riptide dragged Getaway closer on his lap and kissed his maskplate, and Getaway laughed - he always laughed when one of them had their mouths on his mask. The spy had his hands on Riptide’s headfins, stroking them gently, and it did nothing to help him cease the noises he kept making.

 

Just when Riptide thought he was okay with letting out breathy moans as long as Skids and Getaway wouldn’t stop, Getaway moved away and, reaching for his partner, said:

 

"Skids, I have an idea."

 

Skids’ mouth stopped its exploration on Riptide’s back.

 

"You always do," he said.

 

"I know! Comes with being a genius, don’t you think?" Getaway was smirking now.

 

"Spill it, genius," Riptide answered instead of Skids. He wanted to go back to their activities, not useless chatter, and to prove his intentions he craned his neck towards Getaway’s collar and licked on it, enjoying smooth texture of plating under his tongue. The grip on his headfins grew tighter.

 

"Oh, Primus," Getaway breathed. "We promised to teach Riptide stuff."

 

"Stuff," Skids repeated.

 

"You know! Stuff that comes with experience." Getaway waved his hand in expressive gesture that didn’t explain Riptide anything. The hydrobot lowered his head against Getaway’s frame and looked back at Skids hoping that he would figure out what that meant.

 

Skids’ face was unreadable. Getaway’s hot ex-vents on his helm were unbearable.

 

"I’m talking about," more hand waving, "tricks."

 

Well, that was just ridiculous.

 

"I am not some pet turbofox," Riptide sounded genuinely offended. Getaway looked at him, puzzled.

 

"Um," Skids coughed behind him. "He means "tricks" for interface, Riptide."

 

"W-what tricks?"

 

"That come with experience," Getaway helpfully supplied, but, seeing Riptide’s scowl, he immediately clarified: "Skids can teach you how to use your mouth, and I can help you with all fingerwork," he wriggled his fingers at Riptide.

 

Riptide’s mouth fell open. Skids coughed again:

 

"You couldn’t be just a little more straightforward about this? In case we missed something?" Getaway beamed. "Okay, but how do you think it would work?"

 

Skids’ phenomenal patience for his partner’s antics was one of the greatest mysteries of the galaxy, Riptide thought. He was still trying to remember how to use his vox coder and he was curious about that suggestion, too. So far everything involving the spies and their berth was incredible for Riptide. Not that he had much to compare this experience to, but he was pretty sure he could recognize good time and  _really_  good time, and that he was having the latter.

 

"I, um, didn’t think about it?" Getaway sounded unsure. "It’s not like we can organize classes for that. Though it would be hilarious."

 

Skids sighed.

 

"Do I get a say in this?" Riptide finally found his ability to speak. Both Skids and Getaway turned to him, and not for the first time the hydrobot thought that being at the center of their attention was equally unnerving and flattering.

 

"Of course!" Getaway exclaimed. "It’s totally up to you. If you don’t want this, we can do something else."

 

"No, I actually…" Riptide paused. Was he really going to say that out loud? "I like the idea. Of you teaching me," he quietly finished. Getaway patted on his helm, approving of his reply.

"Okay," he heard Skids smiling, his ex-vents warming up the back of his neck. "How do you wanna do it?"

 

Why did they have to leave all important decisions to him? Riptide was content with being led in their interfacing as he indeed had no idea about many things about it. He almost preferred to leave it to “professionals” trusting them to make him and them both feel good.

 

Riptide was surprised to realize that he actually had an idea on how to make the teaching work. Now all he got to do is to say it and not die from embarrassment.

 

"How about," he offlined his optics and ducked his head down, hiding his face in Getaway’s collar, "one of you will give me instructions while I use them… on the other one?"

 

The lack of immediate answer worried Riptide, but as he heard Skids’ cooling fans kicking in he felt a little bit reassured.

 

"Oh. Kinky," Getaway hummed above him.

 

"What do we start with?" Skids asked, his voice heavy with static.

 

Riptide moved from Getaway to see both spies, still trying to process what he’s gotten himself into and guessed what he should be expecting. He wasn’t surprised to see Getaway’ smirk in his optics, the escapologist was apparently happy to do whatever he might suggest. Skids’, one the other hand, looked suddenly serious, almost frowning, his optics shining with some darker shade of yellow, and Riptide would be worried if he didn’t recognize desire in that expression of Skids.

 

So he had to pick. Cheerfully enthusiastic trainee with witty remarks or almost frighteningly intense trainee that could overheat them by just looking at them like that? How could he decide?

 

"We will do both anyway, right?" He asked just to be sure.

 

"Of course," Skids answered, and Getaway nodded.

 

Riptide offlined his optics and started thinking. Both ideas were equally attractive: despite being inexperienced in interfacing, Riptide found great pleasure in making his partners feel good, almost as much as getting himself off, too, so it was a really hard choice. He thought about Getaway guiding his hand over Skids’ equipment. Then he thought about Skids’ distorted voice telling him what to do with Getaway.

 

He licked his lips and said:

 

"Skids, teach me first."

 

Getaway perked up at that, his engine revving, but before he could comment on Riptide’s choice, Skids grunted “Come here”, grabbed his arm and dragged him from Riptide’s lap. He settled on the berth, holding Getaway close to him, back to chest. Fascinated, Riptide watched how Skids pressed his palm on the inside of Getaway’s left thigh, urging him to spread his legs. Noticing that Riptide was still sitting on the same spot, Getaway reached to his shoulder and nudged him closer, making him place his frame between his thighs.

 

Once three of them were settled, there was a pause. Skids seemed to be in trance, he looked at Riptide with intense expression that made the hydrobot fidget nervously. Not knowing what to do, he lowered his helm to Getaway and kissed on his windshield. Then he stopped and looked up. Riptide wasn’t sure that this is how the teaching was supposed to go, but Skids was still silent.

 

Getaway looked at Riptide between his legs. His breath cycle was fast and shallow now.

 

"So, where do I start?" Riptide finally asked. It wasn’t like he had absolutely no idea what to do with a mouth and an interface array, but if there were some real "tricks" about that, he’d like to hear it.

 

Skids snapped out of his gazing.

 

"Sorry. It’s not like I do it every day," he cleared his vox coder awkwardly. "What would you start with?"

 

Riptide felt nervous under Skids’ intense stare. Was that an exam? Already?

 

He brushed his thumb over Getaway’s closed panels and guessed:

 

"Maybe it should be opened in order for me to start?" Impossibly, Getaway’s venting upped in speed even more.

 

Skids bared his teeth in a smile:

 

"Not necessarily. He is ready to snap open. He’s just being coy," he nuzzled the side of Getaway’s helm, and Riptide felt a tremble racing through Getaway’s thighs under his fingers. "Start with the outline of his panels in the middle."

 

That was an easy instruction to follow. Riptide ducked his head down and brought his lips to the white panel.

 

"Lick on the seams, lightly."

 

He moved his tongue out to touch the thin line between black and white with the tip. There was a brief, just a nano-second, moment of panic over not knowing how to apply pressure or how to move his tongue - fast? slow? long or short licks? - but Skids helped:

 

"You just need to convince him to crack them open. Tease, lightly, don’t let him linger in your touch."

 

The tip of Riptide’s tongue fluttered over Getaway’s panels, and it worked: it took less than half a minute to make the plating slide and bare the interface equipment.

 

"See? He’s already wet," Skids’ voice came from above harsh and low. Riptide saw that Skids was right: Getaway’s valve was gleaming with lubricant collected at the opening.

 

Suddenly, Getaway cried out loudly and said:

 

"Primus, this is so hot. I officially inform you that this is hot.” Riptide looked up. Skids hushed and kissed his partner’s maskplate. Getaway’s hand reached Riptide’s, and he grabbed on it, intertwining their fingers. “This is the hottest thing ever,” he repeated again.

 

"We agree," Skids said, holding on Getaway’s helm. "Now shut up, you’re distracting Riptide," he smirked at him.

 

"Sorry, got no mouth to shut it up," Getaway panted. "You have to come up with something else," he said, optics locked with Riptide’s.

 

Riptide didn't suppress the urge to grin. If Getaway dared him, he couldn't back off from it.

 

Still grinning, Riptide ducked his head back to the interface array and, awaiting instructions, kissed Getaway’s inner thigh. He watched with fascination how thin covers of the valve moved around the elastic rim, shiny with lubricant. Carefully, he placed his lips against the opening, and he heard a hitch from Getaway.

 

Skids voice was a low hum of static:

 

"No need to rush inside, Riptide. There’re lots of places around the valve worth trying out."

 

Getaway whined at that and, again, was hushed by his partner.

 

"Move your tongue around it, slowly."

 

Riptide obeyed. The inner plating of interface equipment felt soft and hot on his tongue. Getaway’s working engine made it vibrate, barely palpable.

 

Black thighs around his helm moved impatiently, but Getaway lied as still as possible. He was still holding Riptide’s hand, gripping it tighter every time the tongue brushed over minor sensory nodes. Getaway’s valve spasmed around nothing again, pushing out more lubricant and some got caught in Riptide’s mouth.

 

"He tastes good," he murmured, licking the plates around the valve opening clean. It felt cool, contrasting with heated metal nicely.

 

Getaway’s fingers scratched on the back of his hand, and he looked up. Skids’ vox coder burst with static. He seemed to realize the situation they were in only now.

 

"He does," he agreed, kissing on the side of his partner’s helm. Getaway whined loudly, and Riptide got distracted, watching how Skids whispered something calming to him, kissing him more.

 

"If you like it so much, you can taste him more," Skids said when Getaway’s moans quieted to harsh ex-vents. "Move your tongue over the rim."

 

Riptide brushed his thumb over Getaway’s hand reassuringly and got to licking him again.

 

"Don’t get inside just yet. Play with it."

 

He dragged his tongue over Getaway’s valve, spasming gears of the trim plating giving him sharp excitement. Getaway tried to push himself onto Riptide’s mouth, but Skids held him down, letting Riptide move as he wished, ducking his head up and down as he explored the rim of his valve, sometimes daring to dip the very tip of his tongue behind it. He had no idea if he was good with that, but Getaway’s grip on his hand provided a good feedback: once he did something good, he squeezed tighter on his palm, almost enough to hurt, but it wasn’t worth complaining. Not when Getaway trembled and panted because of him so gorgeously.

 

"Kiss him like you’d kiss me."

 

At first, Riptide didn’t understand the instruction. Was he to move up from his valve? Why? He looked up, raising his optic ridges in question, but as he saw Skids’ tense expression, he got it.

 

Riptide placed his already wet lips to the valve and, parting them like in a real kiss, moved his tongue out. Meeting no resistance, he pushed it a little further, brushing on the walls behind the rim. Getaway shook and gripped on his hand hard, and Riptide, encouraged, went deeper, and if Getaway’s moans weren’t an indication enough that he was welcome here, the wave of spasms around his tongue certainly was.

 

Continuing to make out with Getaway’s valve, Riptide looked up briefly and nearly stopped. Skids held Getaway’s face with two fingers on his chin, turning it up to him, and looked at his partner with the same tense stare he gave Riptide before. The hydrobot couldn’t see Getaway’s expression from this point, but he heard his sharp breaths, and bright blue light of his optics reflected on Skids’ face. They made a beautiful sight, and Riptide would feel jealous of that extreme intimacy between Skids and Getaway if he didn’t know how generous they both were with their affection. They shared it with him, and he was ready to give them the same.

 

Encouraged by Getaway’s moans and the sound of his fenders rattling against Skids’ frame, Riptide went deeper, but at this point he thought that he had no idea what’s next. He figured out that curling his tongue inside the valve was good for Getaway, and that moving his lip plates against the opening reliably made the speedster thrust his hips onto Riptide’s mouth, but beyond that? He found that he was actually awaiting Skids to continue his commands.

 

Riptide looked up again. Skids seemed to catch that he was silent for too long and, still looking into Getaway’s optics, said with a smirk:

 

"You got him worked up nicely, Riptide. Now let’s get to tricks."

 

Getaway’s thighs quivered, and he let out a shaky ex-vent:

 

"I’m so gonna get wrecked. Skids, he’s good."

 

A compliment like that couldn’t be not flattering, Riptide thought. He hid his face between Getaway’s thighs to not give away his stunned expression at that.

 

"You can grade him later," Skids reminded his partner to keep quiet. "Now, step by step, Riptide: pull out your tongue."

 

It seemed unfair to do so, but Riptide obeyed. He couldn’t stand hearing Getaway’s cry at that, so he kissed him more, promising to return as soon as Skids would tell him to.

 

"Yes, good. Get in, but slowly, move your tongue in circles."

 

That part was familiar already. He brushed his tongue around the rim, got a little deeper, and made the same circular movement again. Skids hummed in appreciation, and Riptide, looking up briefly, noticed that he was watching him and biting his lip. Riptide wondered how much Skids got off to that.

 

"Stop there," he heard the next instruction. He barely got the tip of his tongue inside. "You’re bigger than me in everything, so that’s as far as you can go for this part," Skids explained. "Now, fast: withdraw, and lick him as deep as you can."

 

Getaway clutched at Riptide’s hand and whimpered as Riptide followed that instruction. So, stimulate at the opening and then get inside?

 

"Repeat."

 

Riptide retreated, despite Getaway’s whines of protest, licked around the rim, and slid his tongue inside at its full length, adding a swirl just to be sure Getaway would feel that.

 

"Again."

 

This time Riptide felt the walls clenching around his tongue in spasm, and Getaway lifted his hips to meet his mouth. He didn’t need another instruction to repeat this move until he felt Getaway’s other hand on his helm, pressing him closer to the interface array.

 

"You feel how he’s shaking now?" Skids’ voice was messed with distortion again. Riptide hummed and nodded, not able to tear his mouth from Getaway’s valve. He was surprised to realize how much he enjoyed feeling thighs trembling at the sides of his helm, hearing Getaway’s helpless moans he was responsible for, tasting his valve as it clenched around his tongue. Riptide wondered how much he would be charged up when he finally brought Getaway to overload.

 

He felt Skids’ hand prying Getaway’s from his helm.

 

"Now let him cool down for a bit," Skids said.

 

Riptide looked up at him in disbelief.

 

"Kiss his thighs," Skids continued.

 

The hydrobot saw that Skids wasn’t joking and frowned. Getaway tried to say something, but his vox coder malfunctioned, and his fingers scratched on Riptide’s palm again, pleading not to stop. Between Skids’ stern expression and Getaway’s desperate look, Riptide didn’t even had to choose. He couldn’t deny Getaway when he looked at him like that.

 

He pressed himself closer to Getaway’s valve, repeating that move again. The grip on his hand almost hurt, but Riptide was glad to feel it.

 

"Riptide?"

 

He looked up, still frowning. He wanted to tell Skids that he wasn’t that cruel, but he just stubbornly licked Getaway deeper instead. Fora moment Riptide was concerned about how Skids would react to his disobedience. To his surprise, Skids grinned and pressed his mouth close to Getaway’s audials, whispering something to him that made his partner cry out and push his hips higher once more.

 

Before focusing fully on Getaway again, Riptide took a second to admire how the marksman looked right now. He didn’t know the words to properly describe that state: Getaway’s body was wound up tight, held down only by Skids’ palm pressing him on his abdominal plates. Skids was smiling at him, and it wasn’t a cruel smile, not at all, Riptide thought. He guessed that the theoretician was admiring Getaway in the same way as he did. Maybe there was some trick that Skids intended to teach him by neglecting his partner immediate relief, but now it didn’t matter. They could repeat the lesson later.

 

Listening closely to Getaway’s whimpers, Riptide tried to match the movements of his tongue to his moans. He found out that not all areas inside the valve were equally sensitive - a pretty logical conclusion, but he had a task to discover places that reliably made Getaway tremble and squeeze around his tongue hard. After a few licks Riptide was confident that Getaway liked it best when he relaxed his tongue upon sliding in and pressed the tip on the walls upon retreating.

 

"Riptide," Getaway managed to say, barely heard through the roaring of his cooling fans and distortion.

 

"He’s close," Skids said. "Give it to him."

 

Riptide was happy to follow this command.

 

Not daring to tear his lips from the rim of the valve now, Riptide repeated the moves he learned, trying his best to make up for the lack of experience. The waves of spasms that rippled through Getaway’s valve made it hard to guess what to do next, but soon Riptide judged that he did well anyway as pleading moans full of static form Getaway became louder and more desperate.

 

Still looking for confirmation, Riptide looked up again. He caught the wild shine in Getaway’s optics and couldn’t look away. He saw blue light flicker and the next moment Getaway offlined his optics, throwing his head back at Skids’ chest plates and crying out loudly. His valve clenched on Riptide’s tongue, and his body shook violently.

 

Riptide watched how the overload hit Getaway, stunned, almost forgetting that he was responsible for reducing him to that state, until he faintly heard Skids’ next instruction:

 

"Slide your tongue in and out until he stops."

 

He followed it automatically, without thinking, wondering how Skids had the power to even consider what to do when his partner was already a screaming mess. Sliding his tongue against the spasms of the valve was thrilling, but it hardly challenged seeing and hearing Getaway reaching the highest point of his climax.

 

Slowly, Getaway calmed down, and Riptide, not ready to leave his valve yet but not knowing if staying inside would feel good, carefully kissed his inner thighs, each kiss making Getaway twitch his legs. For some moments, all three of them were silent, listening to their working fans, Getaway’s heavy breathing and soft cracking sounds their plates made as they cooled down.

 

Getaway tugged Riptide on his hand, pulling him up to lie atop of him. Riptide heard Skids’ strangled grunt “You two are heavy”, but it didn’t make any sense to him. He felt a little dizzy, and his own interface equipment finally conveyed a message to his brain module about its urges.

 

"Did I pass?" Riptide heard himself asking. He placed his head on Getaway’s chest plates tiredly. Whatever his interface protocols demanded, he needed to rest for a moment. Who knew that giving pleasure and not overloading could be so wonderfully exhausting.

 

"Yes. One hundred percent," Getaway answered immediately. His hands were stroking Riptide’s headfins again.

 

"He needs a little discipline," Skids sounded like he was frowning.

 

Riptide bit his lip plating, thinking of what to say.

 

"I couldn’t, Skids. That look- he was begging," he said defensively, listening to the rumble of Getaway’s engine and fans.

 

Skids chuckled.

 

"Oh. You hadn’t heard him begging yet, Riptide."

 

Riptide looked at him in disbelief.

 

"He’s right," Getaway, unexpectedly, agreed. "I have tricks to have it my way, too," he smirked at him.

 

Riptide sighed. These two were ridiculous. Tricks to have it their way? He thought that he needed something like that, as well. Otherwise he had trouble imaging that he would survive such encounters.

 

"So I guess," he started, "that I would need another lesson from Skids. Maybe several. An exam" Getaway’s hands stopped moving on his helm. Riptide looked Skids into his optics. "And grades from you both," he finished, not believing himself what he just said.

 

Skids’ expression was unreadable and almost terrifying, but Riptide made a guess that this look of Skids meant that he was trying to hide his embarrassment, so he wasn’t going to back off because of funny looks.

 

Getaway barked a laugh and, turning to Skids, hit him on his chest:

 

"Hah! Finally, you get some action in that department, too!"

 

Skids glanced at Getaway, breaking visual contact.

 

"You really have no shame, don’t you?" he asked.

 

"Look who’s talking: a mech who was giving explicit directions on how to go down on me some minutes ago," Getaway teased. "Never knew you had it in you, Skids."

 

Skids looked away, clearly embarrassed.

 

"Is that a yes or a no?" Riptide interrupted their banter. He already knew that these two could go on like that forever.

 

"Yes," Getaway was quick to answer, and Skids’ quiet "Yes" followed shortly.

 

After a pause, Skids said carefully:

 

"And what about another lesson?"

 

Riptide frowned. What another lesson?

 

Getaway showed Skids his hand. His fingers were shaking.

 

"Maybe another time, partner. I’m wrecked."

 

Oh. Right. “Fingerwork”.

 

Skids hummed, and Riptide caught that maybe Skids was charged up now, too.

 

"Hey, you both need to get off, right?" Getaway had the similar thought. "You two have fun, I’ll join later," he managed to slide from between them to lie on his side, leaving Skids and Riptide face to face.

 

Riptide grinned at Skids and pressed their mouths together.


	2. Chapter 2

Second lesson wasn't spontaneous. They prepared. Discussed it, to Riptide's embarrassment. They spontaneously polished their plates before meeting, however, signaling the whole ship that they were getting laid, but that barely bothered Skids or Getaway, and Riptide was already embarrassed enough.

Fortunately, in berth Riptide was quick to forget his shame. Things were just too exciting to care.

Getaway insisted that he and Riptide should lie next to Skids, reasoning it would be easier to guide him this way, and Riptide didn't object. Between them, Skids was venting heavily despite that nothing happened yet. He looked surprisingly delighted.

There was one thing that bothered Riptide, though.

"Um, Getaway?" Riptide asked. Getaway looked at him. His hand was ghosting over Skids' abdominal plates; it was distracting. "I accepted long ago that you two are weird." Skids snorted. "No, I really have no problems with that. I even like it now, but- Does Skids really need to be tied?"

Skids laughed, throwing his head back. He tried to pull his hands down from where they were indeed tied above his head. Getaway sighed, looking at this.

"Yes, he does," he said. "He's clingy. And bossy. He sabotages everything."

Skids sighed with expression that Riptide could call only "dreamy" and said:

"True."

Riptide shook his head, trying his best not to ask if they were serious. He could never tell with them.

"Then why not tie, err..." He trailed off, confused. "Well, everything else?"

Skids wriggled his legs that were free from restraints.

"No point, Riptide. Besides, he's so wonderfully responsive. I wouldn't want you to miss that," Getaway said with affection and placed his hand on Skids' thigh. Riptide gave up. He didn't understand the appeal. He decided to roll with that and see if he liked it.

"Okay, whatever. Start."

Getaway smirked. He reached to take Riptide's hand and looked at his palm critically, touching joints of his fingers and fingertips. Riptide tried not to think about the fact that his hands were almost twice as big as Getaway's. That probably wouldn't be a problem, as their size difference in everything else never was, so he tried not to get antsy about this.

Getaway rubbed his thumb on Riptide's index fingertip, cocked his head in thought and said:

"Okay, you probably need to turn the sensitivity up a little bit."

"What?" Riptide didn't understand him.

"What _what_?" Getaway didn't understand Riptide in response.

"What should I turn up?"

Getaway blinked.

"No way, they couldn't build you without it," he tapped on the panels of Riptide's forearm, fingers transforming briefly into delicate tools to open the plating. Riptide, confused, saw some ports, controls, even a display - did he always have that? Getaway scrolled some wheels, watching closely the readings.

"Here, it should do. Try it like that," he said, bringing his palm to Skids' mouth. Riptide wanted to ask for clarification what he should try, but Skids readily wrapped his lips around Riptide's finger, licking its tip, and Riptide was blinded by an unexpected flash of sensations. He couldn't believe that the source of them was his _hand_. He felt now the texture of Skids' tongue and lips, heated oral lubricant making his finger slide inside Skids' mouth easily. To make things even worse, Skids sucked on Riptide's finger, adding delightful pressure to that mix, and Riptide let his head fall onto Skids' chest, moaning.

Getaway patted him on his shoulder. Riptide felt him tweaking the control panel on his arm again, and soon the sensory overload dulled a little. He let out a relieved ex-vent, glad it wasn't that intense anymore because he started seeing colored shapes.

"Damn, sorry. Now it's okay?" Getaway asked.

Riptide nodded. Skids continued sucking his finger with gleeful expression and shot him a dirty look. Riptide shuddered.

"No, Skids. Bad!" Getaway took his arm from his partner's mouth. "You see what I had to deal with before you joined? I'm not even sure we both can handle him," he said to Riptide, working on placing the plates back and adjusting sensitivity of Riptide's other hand. Skids grinned at them both. Getaway shook his head in disapproval. "I can't believe they didn't cover this in the sex ed," he mused, assembling the other hand.

"That wasn't part of the sex ed," Skids said.

"How do you know what M.T.O. programs covered?"

"You told me in details."

Riptide groaned.

"Getaway, shut up and start the lesson," he said. He had no problems with spies being weird, but he definitely had the problem with them being way too chatty in berth. Maybe if he would just gag them both, no one would sabotage anything.

Where'd _that_  thought come from? Riptide shivered at the image.

Getaway huffed.

"Okay, okay. So impatient!" He wriggled his fingers before Riptide's face. "Couple of tricks beforehand, though."

Riptide listened attentively. Getaway looked down on Skids' sprawled body. He placed his hand on Skids' neck and said:

"He likes it when you touch his neck like that," nimble fingers ran down the cables. Skids threw his head back, and Getaway gently traced his index finger on his throat lining. "Come on, don't just look."

Riptide blinked. He brought his hand to Skids' neck and stopped, unsure. He could screw this up. His fingers weren't gentle, they weren't meant for fine tricks Getaway could do without putting too much effort into it. He didn't even know that sensitivity of his hands was adjustable because who needed these details when he might and have spent _months_  in his altmode without changing once during his missions?

He reluctantly placed index finger against Skids' neck as Getaway just did and rubbed it on the lining. It surprised him how much he could feel now - the difference between smooth plates covering throat and rougher, uneven texture of the cabling, he could sense even the barely-there tremble of air going through intakes. This feeling encouraged Riptide to bring all fingers to Skids' neck, tips barely touching him, marveling at how vulnerable he was with his hands tied and throat exposed.

Skids let out a moan, quiet and so low that Riptide wasn't sure he heard at all, but he definitely felt it as he brushed his thumb against Skids' vox coder. He looked up breifly at Getaway for approval.

"Nice! Not an A, but good, strong B," he said cheerfully. Riptide wanted to pinch him.

"You're giving me flashbacks. Stop it."

Getaway laughed. Riptide huffed. It wasn't that bad. It wasn't bad _at all_ , and apparently he didn't screw anything up yet. He just had to complain.

"Okay, okay. Let's move down then," Getaway said, giving up the chance to bicker for once, his hands quick on Skids' chest. Riptide noticed that he barely touched the upper plates at all, focusing on his bumper and circling the headlights. He repeated the movement, placing his hand on the other side, tapping fingertips lightly. "Here, under the lower molding," Getaway said, pointing under the lights. Riptide followed the instruction, curling his fingers curiously. He found a thin strip of sensitive mesh between the bumper and upper abdominal plates and felt how Skids shook at the contact.

He tried few other places between the plating on Skids' abdomen, getting positive reaction each time. Riptide placed his other hand back on Skids' neck without stopping his exploration of his lower part. Getaway nodded in approval, and Riptide felt warm and a little awkward at the same time. These things seemed so simple, and yet, Skids was breathing heavily and arching into Riptide's hands, so obviously enjoying the attention.

"He's nailing it, isn't he?" Getaway asked Skids. He didn't get an answer. "That's good," he turned to Riptide, "now we can move-"

Getaway stopped mid-sentence to watch Skids' covers open up and reveal his interface equipment.

"Would you look at that," Getaway's optics shone with excitement. His hand traveled on Skids' inner thigh, making him spread his legs a little. Riptide felt the blue frame shaking a little under his hands. "You would never guess that out of us three I am the fastest one," he crooned and looked at Riptide with a smirk.

Riptide's reply was out of his mouth without the approval of his brain module:

"My cruise speed on the water is over 400 kilometers per hour."

Getaway's smirk disappeared. Riptide cursed. One would think that having a common goal - common berth, common lover - would lessen the bickering they both were used to.

Skids burst out laughing.

"I love you both so much," he managed to say through the laughter, and Getaway's expression turned sheepish.

"I'll remember that on the next race," Getaway said to Riptide, but his tone held no hostility. If Riptide was correct, Getaway sounded... affectionate? He couldn't stop himself from smiling in return.

"Just don't tell our captain. I don't want to be thrown out of the airlock for being superior to him," he grinned.

"I win the races against him every time, and I'm still here. I think you're safe, buddy," Getaway bomped him lightly.

"Please, don't discuss our commanding officers in berth," Skids said, testing his restraints.

Riptide reluctantly placed his hand on Skids' thigh, daring to touch the inner part of it.

"Yes," Skids hissed.

"Smart move," Getaway approved. He pointed at the hidden mesh and circuitry on the inner part of the hip joint. "Basically one giant sweet spot. If he wasn't already opened, a little touching there is all what it takes him to crack," he said and patted Skids' abdominal plates.

Riptide carefully traced his fingers over the area, feeling Skids twitching lightly, spreading his legs further. He moved his fingers closer to Skids' interface array, his touches becoming bolder, and Getaway joined him, his fingers dancing on the other thigh.

However, Getaway seemed to wait for Riptide to make the next move, and that was confusing. What was the point of teaching him anything without giving clear instructions? Riptide thought that at least he could ask. He could take a little risk with guessing.

"So, is this a sweet spot as well?" Riptide's fingers rested on the underside of Skids' half-pressurized spike. He didn't intend to do anything with it without Getaway's advices, but hearing Skids breathing in sharply and feeling every bit of the texture of his spike mixed into an exciting desire to explore and do things. He carefully touched ridges and smooth flexible plating, fingertips brushing up to the tip while his thumb rubbed on the head of the spike. The touches were very light, on the verge of the sensitivity, but that was just enough to tease and make Skids thrust his hips up into Riptide's hand.

"Correct," Getaway nodded, though his hand stayed where it was, circling on the inner thigh. "But I'm gonna tell you this: spikes are easy," he said and took Riptide's wrist to move his hand away. Skids whined at the loss of contact, wriggling in restraints. "If you have a spike and a functional hand, you can probably figure it out."

First thought was to make a remark that Getaway was discriminating against empurata victims, but seeing glossy glint in Skids' optics made it hard to process words.

"Valves are, on the other hand, are tricky. And way more rewarding, if you can master the art of unlocking them," Getaway urged Riptide to place his hand lower, were Skids' valve was wet and hot.

There was a distant intent to mock Getaway for sounding poetic while speaking of valves. It was ignored for the greater good: Riptide remembered very well how much magic there was in Getaway's hands. When you're so damn good with valves, it's allowed to be poetic about them.

The soft outline of Skids' valve was soaking with lubricant. Riptide recalled Skids' own advices on exploring the area around the opening and brushed his fingers in circular movement, fingertips sliding easily against the rim. Getaway watched it and hummed in approval.

"So..." Riptide tried to gather everything he knew about the subject. "First step is to make sure it's stretched? Like, one finger at time?" He frowned, confused by his own ignorance. There were rumors he heard, and there was his experience that kind of contradicted the rumors. He still didn't know what was closer to the reality.

"No, not at all," Getaway shook his head. He guided Riptide's fingers, pointing at particular sensitive places. Riptide looked at him, puzzled even more. "See, you don't stick your fingers - your anything, actually - in a dry valve. The more you charge him up," he urged Riptide to slide his fingers past the valve rim, "the looser he gets. See?"

"I... see," Riptide agreed. His index digit slid in and out with easiness.

"There are individual cases, of course, and the preparation is a must if you have significant size difference," Getaway said in a nonchalant lecturing tone. Riptide frowned and this remark, but before he could go into overthinking this statement, Getaway bomped him and clarified, "I'm talking about Cyclonus and Mini... Tailgate difference, not you and me or Skids difference."

"Don't," Skids hissed, "put this image in my head."

"Shoosh. Don't distract Riptide from education," Getaway mocked him. Riptide wouldn't mind distraction: the image was in his head now, too, and it was a little disturbing. Mini Tailgate? He thought Tailgate was tiny enough, why make him "mini"?

"Okay, got it. No stretching required. Another myth busted," he mumbled.

Getaway cocked his head in thought, remembering their previous activities, and corrected:

"It's required if one takes two spikes at once."

Riptide shuddered at the memory. He agreed that this was challenging. His breath cycle hitched as he thought about this lesson turning into preparation for that, and he needed to push that thought away immediately. It was hard to focus already when he had his hands full of Skids struggling to get free and rubbing himself on his finger.

Getaway sat up beside Skids to see his body better. He shoved his hand under Riptide's where it was reluctantly exploring Skids' valve. Curious, Riptide got up, too, to see what Getaway was doing. Getaway placed two fingers on the valve's rim and spread them apart.

"Here, at the opening," he said. Riptide was proud of himself that he didn't need to ask twice. He placed his index finger precisely at the opening uncovered by the rim. He felt some difference - the valve walls in the other places had their own repeating texture of folds and fine mesh, but that place that Getaway pointed out was a lot like a knot of wiring... Riptide realized it was a sensory node. He ex-vented in excitement and looked up at Getaway. He grinned at him knowingly.

"That's a major sensory node. You can overload him by stimulating just it alone. Makes things interesting when you're both tired as hell for anything penetrative: just rub your spike against it, and you're both in heaven," his smirk promised they won't stop just there.

"I personally prefer scissoring," Skids breathed heavily.

"Too much information," Riptide warned. He got to know the area and circled his finger around the node. The reaction from Skids was immediate: he moaned, arching his body, trying to push himself further onto Riptide's finger. It was Getaway's turn to hold him down as Riptide familiarized himself with the inner parts of Skids' interface equipment.

Riptide tried it all: he moved his finger in circles or across the node, fast (Skids didn't like it very much) and slow, attempted to figure the right pressure to apply, when Getaway said:

"Knuckles, Riptide, knuckles."

Riptide looked up in confusion. What did knuckles have to do to it? Getaway showed him a crooked finger:

"Do it like that to scrap on the other side on the rim while you have fun with that node."

Riptide followed the advice, curling his finger and pushing it inside without stopping his exploration at the opening, and almost regretted that Skids' legs weren't restrained. Skids' whines grew louder and needier as he pushed his crooked finger in and out, and soon Riptide felt the valve contracting in hungry spasm, as if attempting to pull his finger in deeper. Riptide turned to Getaway to ask what to do next, but Getaway was looking at Skids, tracing his hand on Skids' side.

"Look how beautiful he is right now," Getaway said, noticing Riptide.

Riptide wouldn't disagree. The light of Skids' yellow optics was dimmed, reflecting on his faceplates softly, and moans escaped parted lips on every ex-vent. Ripdite curled his finger inside Skids' valve and saw his relaxed mouth open a little wider to let out a loud staticky groan. What was Getaway saying about Skids being "so wonderfully responsive"?

"Good job, Riptide," Getaway said, still watching how Skids panted and shivered. "Now, in the same manner: get the whole finger inside. Don't rush and have fun."

Riptide chuckled awkwardly. None of his teachers ever told him to have fun at lessons. On the other side, none of them told him to stick his fingers into a valve of a fellow Autobot.

He decided to circle around the rim before sliding his finger deeper. It was easy as the walls were slick and loose from arousal, rippling slightly around his finger. He took the advice not to rush and made sure to give some attention to that node at the opening before pushing deeper. His fingertip conveyed a lot of useful information now about the temperature, pressure, the level of lubrication, but more importantly, Riptide knew how to tell the mesh and sensory nodes apart now. It was... fun to find them in the folds, feeling how his every touch reliably drove Skids a little closer to his overload, making him produce all kinds of noises, making him twitch his legs and struggle in his restrains, making his valve squeeze around his finger hotly.

" _Good_ ," Getaway said, clearly satisfied with his partner's current state. He seemed to have trouble deciding whom he should be paying attention to - Riptide and his clumsy uncertain hands or Skids, bothered and trembling. He brought his hand up to Skids' face and brushed his thumb on the lower lip, and his partner was quick to take the finger between his lips and lick it. Riptide felt a little dizzy from this view, remembering the blinding flash from not so long ago. Riptide carefully pulled his finger out to the half of it length and pushed it back, and Skids moaned, tongue lapping on Getaway's thumb reverently.

"Now add the second finger," Getaway said.

Riptide huffed.

"No stretching required, huh?" he asked with irony. Getaway looked at him, puzzled.

"Oh," he realized what Riptide was referring to. "Well, to get familiar with the insides of the valve you don't need all ten fingers at once, right?"

Riptide grinned. His middle finger brushed on the rim, as if he was awaiting some command. It felt indeed as if Skids could manage a finger or two more.

"You felt that another node on the anterior wall deeper, didn't you?" Getaway asked just when Riptide was ready to push the tip of the middle finger inside.

"What wall?"

Getaway sighed.

"The one you're exploring now. Another major node. You wouldn't miss it."

Oh. This thing.

"Yeah, I just..." His fingertip slid against it inside, and Skids shook under him, moaning around Getaway's finger obscenely. "That was it. I guess."

Getaway nodded.

"Focus on it when you get to fucking him with both of your fingers."

Feeling hot from that explicit command, he pushed his middle finger inside, every knuckle scrapping against the rim. Skids spread his legs wider and lifted his hips invitingly as Riptide's finger joined the other one in his valve. He paused, feeling the walls clenching around his fingers, remembering how it felt around his own spike, and then started sliding both fingers out, brushing the fingertips against that anterior node or what-was-it-called, and pushed them back inside, mirroring that movement. Skids' moans were muffled by the finger in his mouth.

"He's amazing with that, isn't he?" Riptide barely heard Getaway whispering to Skids. "Imagine what it was like when you let him lick me senseless while you told him what to do."

Riptide shivered, curling his fingers involuntarily, and Skids' body arched under him, taking his fingers deeper, and Riptide stubbornly pulled out to keep the rhythm. After several thrusts Skids threw his head back, Getaway's finger sliding out of his mouth, and wailed. His whole body was tense, hips high in the air, and he was shaking every time Riptide moved his fingers against the hot slick walls. The spasms rippling through the valve hugged his fingers hard, making it difficult to move, but not moving them at all seemed just cruel.

Riptide thought that he could share the sentiment in calling Skids beautiful right now. Skids, who was universally (pretty often unfairly) accepted to be the level-headed one of their trio, wasn't seen struggling in restraints and almost begging for an overload often enough. He had a strange moment of dissociation, imagining all three of them right now: Skids at the center of attention, shaking and trying to spread his legs further with every thrust of Riptide's fingers as he took them; Getaway practically lying atop of Skids now, pressing him down to cease his struggling and laughing quietly at Skids' attempts to free his hands while he touched his frame everywhere, from checking on his valve rim stretched around Riptide's fingers up to Skids' mouth to push his fingers inside again; and Riptide himself - he probably was looming over both of them, taking the best places on this show and being the lead actor simultaneously.

No wonder Getaway and Skids so casually bragged about them being amazing to other mechs. Riptide thought the other people were simply too stupid to appreciate them.

Riptide locked his optics with Skids', and Skids smiled lewdly around Getaway's finger. His valve constricted around him, and Riptide suddenly had the urge to make Skids take the fingers of his free hand into that grinning mouth. He missed the moment when the urge became an action, his mind registering only how Skids' tongue licked between his and Getaway's fingers now.

Surprisingly, Skids' tongue on his finger was enough to guide Ritptide further, but hot ex-vents and sensual, hungry licks were as good for feedback as they were distracting, and Riptide focused on fucking him with his fingers steadily to make Skids forget about everything but open-mouthed moans. Getaway didn't interfere, watching with thrilled expression how Skids was getting closer with each thrust. Riptide repeated everything he found out to be good tonight: circling around sensory nodes, hooking fingers to tease on the rim, scrapping the walls until they spasmed tightly, and it all was so rewarding to see and hear that when Skids' whole body spasmed on the verge of the overload, Riptide wanted to act twice as good, but Getaway held his hand in one place and said quietly:

"Shhh. Just watch him."

And Skids, overloading, locked his hand between his thighs, and his valve clenched around his fingers hard. He let out a torn scream, the light of his optics flickering unsteadily, and shook, sending the smallest frictions through the spasming valve. Getaway was still holding Riptide's hand in place, and the hydrobot took the hint not to move it, but he couldn't resist trying out wriggling his fingers inside, and it made Skids cry out lowly, and for a second Riptide was concerned for the state of the wall where Skids' restraints were attached to.

Skids uncrossed his legs as his valve loosened around Riptide's fingers a little. His breath was heavy, and he had that familiar glassy shine in his optics that he got after overloads. Out of curiosity, Riptide slid his fingers slowly, not getting out yet, and Skids hung his head with a whine while Getaway was working on getting his hands free.

"Come on, Riptide, don't be cruel," Getaway smirked, not even looking at what the hydrobot was doing.

Embarrassed, Riptide carefully withdrew his fingers and put his hands on Skids' frame, supporting him awkwardly. Being in restraints for a long time couldn't be very pleasant, he thought.

Skids bumped his head into Riptide's chestplate tiredly, and the next moment he felt Skids putting his arm around his frame and dragging him closer until they three crashed into each other.

"Skids?" Riptide asked worriedly. "Is everything alright?"

Skids was getting comfortable between them. Getaway laughed quietly at that, watching his partner's blissful and exhautsed expression.

"Post coital-cuddles are the most important part of interface. Sadly, sex ed doesn't cover that anywhere," Skids sighed, clinging to both of them. Suddenly Riptide understood why Getaway tied him up in the first place.

"You need to clean up," Getaway said, smiling.

"Yeah, and Getaway and I, uh..." Riptide paused. His arousal, as usual, was kicking in later than everyone else's. Getaway looked at him with a lewd smirk in his optics, probably counting on the same.

Skids didn't really listen, yanking both of them down into a kiss. His hands were roaming on their bodies, and Riptide thought it could make a nice foreplay.

"Okay," he whispered, licking Skids' lips. "Cuddling is important. Got it."

Skids grinned and kissed him back.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised you robots fucking, I got you your robots fucking.


End file.
